


Salem's Journey

by Inarikurenai



Category: RWBY
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Best Friends, Dogs, Female Friendship, First Love, Friendship, Gen, Gods, Hurt/Comfort, Love/Hate, Lovers To Enemies, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Pet Names, Pre-RWBY, Regret, Revenge, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Villains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:40:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28711389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inarikurenai/pseuds/Inarikurenai
Summary: Salem tells the untold truth of her journey—a tale of love as old as time.
Relationships: Beowolves (RWBY) & Salem, God of Darkness & God of Light (RWBY), God of Darkness (RWBY) & Salem, God of Light (RWBY) & Salem, Original Character(s) & Salem (RWBY), Ozma/Salem (RWBY)
Kudos: 13





	Salem's Journey

Damn them. Damn them both!

"You thought there is no greater punishment we could bestow upon you?"

Salem gritted her teeth, inhaling a sharp breath of air through her nose. The ashes of the fallen were suffocating and the haughtiness of the God of Darkness was unbearable. They thought they won? That she would quit her crusade against them because of the death of a measly few?

She stood up. Light rose-colored hands clenched into fists, trembling. Shoulders squared, standing against those that created all life on the planet. Her hardened blue eyes narrowed at the Brother Gods as she knit her brows, practically daring them to do their worst.

"I'll come back." She promised with a barely contained growl. "I'll tell the rest of the world about this massacre. Build a new army—"

"You do not understand." She could hear how amused the God of Darkness was. "There is no one left."

 _What is he_ — _No. He wouldn't. Not because of me. They were all innocent!_

He brought his skeletal face close to hers, his large empty eye sockets boring into hers. He huffed, filling her nostrils with the smell of the dead.

"You are all that remains of humanity."

Eyes widened in horror. Words clogged in her throat. She felt her heart twist and crumble, plummeting fast down its grave in her stomach.

_No._

She took a step back, shaking her head at the Brother Gods. How could he just extinguish life like it was nothing? How could the God of Light—bringer of life, father of humanity—stand by as his brother removed his children from existence?

The God of Light sighed. "This planet was a beautiful experiment."

Experiment? They were just experiments to them? Her close friends she'd laugh and shed tears with, neighbors she invited to her home for meals, even her beloved Ozma—who she started this whole bloody quest for—were all just experiments?!

"But, it was merely a remnant of what once was," he continued. "We will learn from this failure. I hope you will learn from yours."

The god glowed, fading to dust in the wind.

"No." Salem rushed to his fleeting form. "You can't leave. _You can't leave! Come back!_ " She barked.

The God of Light ignored her demands. He was gone, leaving his brother and her alone.

"Still demanding things from your creators?" The God of Darkness asked and she froze at his tone—the same tone he had when he wiped humanity off the planet.

"No, please, I'm sor—"

It was too late though. The God of Darkness—master over death and creator of the monstrous Grimm—flew high into the clear twilight. A deafening boom pierced her ears. She winced, cracking her eyes open and gazing at the skies.

A dry, humorless chuckle left her lips.

The moon—the same body of rock and metal she used to gaze upon, mesmerized, while she was stuck in that tall tower—had a gaping chunk ripped out of it, the pieces heading straight for her. Red filled the air as flaming portions of the moon rained hell upon the land.

Salem didn't know what to say. She had doomed humanity. She _killed_ them. All she wanted was revenge and freedom from the curse the Brother Gods burdened her.

_All I wanted was to see Ozma again._

The first piece of fiery debris made contact with the planet, shaking the land. Others soon joined in with the carnage, blanketing the world with a raging inferno and planet-splitting earthquakes.

Salem dropped to her knees and did the only thing she could against the terrible fate bestowed upon her.

She screamed. And screamed. And screamed.

She bawled until her throat was raw and in pain. She yowled until all that was left of her was an empty husk. She shrieked until a meteorite struck her head on, silencing her cries.

* * *

After The Massacre and the hellfire settled, Salem was amazed at how quiet everything was. It was completely unnerving. Loud, rambunctious cities that used to house thousands, silenced without a trace of them ever existing. Farms filled with hard working families disappeared, leaving cattle and livestock to rejoin their wild brethren once more. Households carrying love and affection for its members turned to dust and carried by the wind to rest with the forgotten.

Salem was alone.

It had taken a few decades after The Massacre for her to come to terms with the solemn reality. The malevolent Brother Gods thought themselves infallible. Her very acts against them proved them false. The God of Darkness could have missed some, and if the likes of deers, bears, and other wildlife survived the bombardment of the planet, so too could humanity. They were smarter than dim-witted animals, created to be the top of the food chain and masters of the lands they called home. There had to be some pockets of humanity hidden among the extensive world she called home.

Apparently not.

Salem roamed the large continents and chartered the vast seas to search for any survivors. Traversed up mountains that pierced the heavens and burrowed into caverns that laid beneath. There was no one. Every village, island, and home was void of all life.

All that had remained were ashes that wasn't able to be picked up by the wind.

Salem was _alone_.

Alone to suffer in the world.

She prided herself in her mental fortitude, having spent almost her entire life secluded from the outside world, with the only human interaction she had being with her overprotective father. But this though. The realization that all of humanity was gone and she was the cause of it, didn't just break her.

It _destroyed_ her.

It began with her senses. Food and water crumbled—ash on her tongue. The feel of wind and grass vanished. Her nose—numb. Mother nature—muted, fading into white nose. Her eyes went last, the colors blurring into grey.

The only comfort she had in the early years was sleep where she dreamt—of the past and of better days, surrounded by friends that loved her, exchanging pleasantries as she entered her home, being welcomed by her loving husband—Ozma—who waited for her return. Her husband who caressed her body with loving touches and seduced her ears with promises of the future— _their_ future.

But like everything else, her dreams—dreams that gave her strength—twisted and contorted into vile nightmares. Faces of those she manipulated into raising arms against the Brother Gods plagued her when fatigue took hold. Their screams of terror as the God of Darkness got rid of them like they were trash. The curses they spewed at her for damning them into oblivion for her selfish goals.

She couldn't handle it anymore—not the loneliness, the nightmares, and not the guilt that wrecked her body everytime she passed by an empty house.

So Salem tried the only thing she could to end it.

She tried to die.

Salem challenged the limits of her cursed immorality—a reminder of her sins. She slit her wrists, lodged swords into her abdomen, slashed her stomach open, and hanged herself from tall oak trees.

It didn't work, but it motivated her to try harsher and more inhumane methods of suicide.

She tied stones to her ankles and leapt into raging oceans. Her body became a feast to the predators that prowled the wilds. She boxed herself in cramped wooden homes, entrapping her in the blazing fire she lit. She even dived from monstrous heights to be impaled by jagged rocks.

None of it stuck—only the painful reminder of what she felt.

Salem always woke from her death with her body miraculously healed, leaving no wounds or even scars.

Her stubborn body didn't deter her. Salem kept trying—being more elaborate than the last. For centuries, she tried to perfect the art of ending her life. With each trial she committed, a piece of herself was lost. The amount of times she had fallen in and out of madness in her solitude and her thousands of suicides was staggering.

But it was in those moments of madness she thought of one final experiment to test. One final chance to rejoin her precious Ozma and amend her mistakes. One final chance to be put to rest.

Salem arrived at the God of Darkness' forsaken sanctum. The memories of what occurred here centuries ago were still fresh on her mind. She pleaded to the god to return her Ozma to her after his untimely death. The older brother god deemed her undying love sacrilegious and refused to help her when she approached him and so she went to the next best thing.

How she wished to travel back in time to stop her grieving self. The world would still be brimming with life and she wouldn't be cursed to roam the land alone, unable to end her life and join her lovely husband in the beyond.

But it would change today.

She would no longer be torn from him—no longer bear the guilt of the sin that haunted her everyday.

She would be free—she wouldn't be alone.

Salem navigated the deadland, trekking up the steep hill to gaze at her goal from above. The only thing beside herself the Brother Gods left as a cruel reminder of their existence—the Grimm Liquid.

If anything could kill her, it would be something the God of Darkness—the controller of death—had created.

She peered over the cliff, soaking in the sight of the tar-like pool with its serrated, rocky edges. Bubbles formed and rose a few inches from the pools of black and popped in the air. She could sense the fiendish energy from where she stood.

Most would have turned around by now—afraid of just the sight of the Grimm Liquid, let alone of thinking of diving in it.

Salem was no longer most—she was singular.

She closed her baby blue-eyes, plunging headfirst into the black sludge.

Pain.

So much pain.

Fire stroked her skin—reminiscent of the time she walked through molten lava to see if she could dissolve into nothing. Scalding heat turned into sharp strikes, tearing at her insides like an enraged Beowolf.

This was it.

She felt it—the unyielding soul in her body, dwindling, threatened to be snuffed out once and for all. She was finally going to experience peace again. She could put all those hellish years alone behind her.

 _I'm coming, Ozma_ , she thought with a pleased grin playing on her lips.

The freezing embrace of death grabbed her whole, squeezing every piece of life out of her.

She stiffened—the agonizing pain ceased.

No fires licking her body, nor claws ripping into her skin.

No pain—only the weightlessness of floating.

Salem's eyes widened in panic. _No._ She dived further down the pool of sludge. _This can't be it._ She clenched her teeth to silence her burning lungs, but their symmetry for oxygen was greater. She gasped for air, flooding her chest with the thick tar. _I'm so close._ Pushing against the cries her lungs gave, she plunged down the abyss.

_I was right there, damn it!_

She reached the bottom, surrounded by darkness.

She gazed at the sky, moonlight shimmering through black.

What she thought to be endless had found its end.

_Ozma…_

Just like the day the Brother Gods forsook her on the desolate planet, she responded the only way she knew how.

She screamed.

She screamed until her vocal cords were nonexistent—until her fury was satisfied.

Salem was _alone_.

After what felt like hours, she swam to the surface. She breached the water's edge, gasping for air. Hacking and coughing out the sludge from her system, she made her way to land. Hoisting herself onto land, the heavy liquid dripped off her body. Bitter tears stung the corner of her eyes.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand—ridding herself of any reminders of her failures. Her breath hitched—feeling her heart thumping in her ears as her bottom lip quivered.

Her hand was paler than one at death's door and her nails were devoid of any color—a sickening onyx black.

"No…"

She examined and prodded every inch of her body, leaving no part untouched. She grabbed and yanked out lumps of her golden hair from their roots. She paused—three fingers over her right eye. A shaky breath left her thin lips.

 _Blue. Please let it be blue_ , she prayed.

Squelch.

Salem choked out a laugh, tears of blood trickling down her cheeks. "No…"

Her supple skin was paler than snow, red veins riddling her flesh. Her envious blonde hair, bleached into a ghastly pearl white. Ozma's favorite blue eyes, once brimming with life, blood-red trapped in the void.

Salem was alone.

And now, she was a _monster_.

"No…" Her shaking hands clenched into fists. "No." Red—all she saw as her frame shook. "No!" She roared at the heavens that brought those wretched gods.

All her suffering was because of them! Them and their demented experiments! Why give them free will and grace them with the knowledge of love if it was all a damned trial for something else!? Why did they let humanity live if they were just going to vaporize them if there was slightest error in their observation?!

Why couldn't they just give her back Ozma!

"Damn it!" she bellowed.

A howl meshed with her bawling. She stopped—stunned at the intrusion of her self-loathing. A Grimm—a Beowolf—tore its way out the pool of tar, stretching its long arms. The mindless creature swam, using its clawed arms to reach land. It scurried onto solid ground, shaking off any residue liquid from its fur.

The Beowolf flexed its limbs—black fur glistened from the moonlight—and loomed over her—a dainty woman. Its mouth opened, taking long labored breaths—reeking of death and destruction—and its chest reverberated with a soft, purring sound as it growled every time it inhaled.

Lifeless, crimson eyes bored into her disgusting red ones.

Salem had faced the likes of Grimm before, easily slaying them with the magic she was born with, then later using them as another trial in ending her life. Each one she came across attacked on sight—throwing caution to the wind and engaged in their destructive nature.

But this one didn't.

The Beowolf stood over her like a dog was unsure of a new toy.

"What are you waiting for, _pup_?" Salem said with a maddening grin. "Do it. Strike me. Claw out my intestines and gnaw on my flesh."

The Grimm didn't budge—only tilting its head to the side.

"Do it!" she barked.

The creature of darkness moved with swiftness typical of their type, raising its large clawed hand and moving to make good on Salem's plea. She closed her eyes, accepting the tiny peace she would be granted while she recovered from her death.

It never came.

Salem cracked her eyes open.

The Grimm stopped, its hand—almost as big as her head—close to her face.

"What, am I not good enough for you to kill?" She snarled, her eyes narrowing. The beast dared insult her? "Do it, _pup_. Kill me. _Fucking. Kill. Me_." She seethed, glaring at the nightmarish beast.

The Beowolf's hand trembled, jagged teeth clenched into a snarl.

It was...hesitating. They _never_ hesitated. They always struck first, especially the young and the stupid.

Unless...

"You...can't harm me, can you?"

The creature's nostrils flared as it huffed.

Salem reached for the Grimm's extended hand, cautious as she tugged it down. It didn't react from her touch, keeping its gaze upon her—like she was expecting something from her.

"What is it?" she asked. "What do you want?"

The Grimm blinked, tilting its head to the left.

Salem's teeth clenched. "Talk, you damn Grimm!"

The Beowolf let out a boisterous roar.

Salem raised her hands, magic crackling between her fingers. The so-called mindless creature did not attack. It sat on its haunches, its eyes fixed on her.

_Why howl when I yell but not before?_

"Wait." Salem cupped her chin, brow quirked in mild interest. "Talk..." she said, heedful of her own words.

It howled.

Her red eyes widened. She couldn't believe it.

"Talk."

The Grimm howled.

"Sit."

It plopped on the crackling earth.

"Stand."

It clambered on its two hind legs and slouched.

Salem grinned, chuckling at her new-found power. She could command the Beowolf. She could _control_ the Grimm—monsters that plagued the planet, wreaking havoc, now under her dominion.

She reached for the pup, placing her hand under its chin.

_Soft._

"I shall name you." Her eyes softened. "Spring."

Spring didn't react to its new found name. Not surprising. Spring was still a newborn, lacking intelligence and the skeletal-like armor that came with age. It was fine though. They would have plenty of time to get to know one another. With a loving smile, she scratched its chin—and Spring wagged its tail.

Salem could tell Spring and her would get along swimmingly.

She stopped showing affection to her pup. The creature let out an adorable whine. Honestly, it was too cute for its own good.

Salem turned her attention to the pool of sludge Spring spawned from. Perhaps, she could 'birth' another. It was worth a shot. Spring would be alone if she did not, and no one—Grimm or not—deserved to be alone.

Salem exhaled, raising her hands as she closed her eyes. She tried to recall the whirling emotions from before—her hatred for the Brother Gods for culling humanity. Guilt from the role she played in this horrific history that befall her home. Sadness from realizing she would be alone—forever.

Her breath hitched, a chill crawling down her spine. There was a soft tug in her core. It was trying to pull more of her being but her blasted soul was resisting. The useless thing flared like a bright flame, warning her to turn away before it was too late.

Her lips reeled into a scowl, releasing a feral growl. "I will _not_ be denied this."

Salem had lost too much for her own damn weak soul to reject her wishes. It was her one and _only_ chance to gain a fathom of what once was. To finally grab hold of the helm of her life and guide it her- _damn_ -self.

She surrendered to the freezing clutches of the unknown power. The gentle warmth—similar to that of a campfire—took its last breath, smothered out of existence. Her heart stilled. Lips curved into a pleased grin as the last bit of oxygen left her lungs.

The biting chill never felt so welcoming before.

Salem welcomed the lovely sound of three howls with open arms and a bright smile. She opened her eyes, seeing three fresh Beowolves brought to life and clawing through the tar to reach shore.

"Ha…" She did it. "Haha." She _summoned_ Grimm. She was now the _mother_ of Grimm. "Hahaha!"

The power of the God of Darkness was now under her thumb. Death was under her mercy. Oh the irony. To fight against the Brothers Gods and now have the power of both—creating creatures of the night and attaining life immortal.

Salem straightened her spine, crossing her hands over each other. "Come."

The three pups waddled next to Spring—not used to walking so soon after creation. They stood next to their brethren all bereft of their bone-white armor. Their armor would come with time and she could not wait for that day.

They would mark the start of the new chapter of her life.

She glanced at the puppy at the far right. "You're Summer." She looked at the next in line. "Winter." And then at the last. "Fall."

Salem finished naming her children with a smile. Perfect names for her girls. Ozma and her had always wanted to name their children after the seasons. She was looking forward to being a mother, secretly wishing to be graced with daughters. She couldn't have that anymore, but her pups could be the next best thing.

Salem turned away from her children, feeling lighter than she ever did. "Come, girls. Let's go for a walk."

For the first time since The Massacre, Salem did not walk Remnant alone.


End file.
